The Silver Stage
by Miss Ink
Summary: Christian is still depressed over Satine's death, but life goes on and he finds a new adventure on the Silver Stage. Full of OCs. ChristianxOC, re-write Chapter 10
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I don't own Moulin Rouge. I do own my OCs. I hope you enjoy and please reivew. Thank you.

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**The Silver Stage**

**Chapter 1**

Christian was still lingering in deep depression over the death of his beloved Satine. It has already been nearly two years since she died and even though he was able to write down their story and published his work he still did not feel complete. There was still emptiness inside him and he doubted if there would be any hope of a love to fill it once again. After all, he didn't want to have it filled. He didn't want just get over it or move on like his friends from Spectacular, Spectacular suggested. Yet, he had gotten quite a lot of fame over his little story. The money he was receiving was paying the bills and making ends meet, but he felt languished and hollow underneath. It was like he was walking in a colorless dream were he was simple going through the motions, but really nothing matter anymore. Life was no longer beautiful and new. It was like he'd experienced heaven and was then cast out like an archangel into hell.

Though, recently he'd taken a job at a local newspaper and wrote up simple advertisements for silly products. Nick-knacks like perfumed soaps and ladies under things. It wasn't like his heart was in what he did, but he needed an excuse to get out of his apartment. However, sometimes on cloudy, rainy days he'd sit in his lonely flat and just think of her—he'd think about her face—he'd think about her voice—he'd think about her laugh. It was times like that he felt something close to being alive.

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One day while at his work at the newspaper, Christian was informed by his employer, Mr. Du Bois that he was assigned to write up an ad on a new theatre house that was opening soon, called the Silver Stage. It used to be owned and operated by a gentleman named Mr. Peters, but after his health declined he sold it to some wealthy American. Mr. Du Bois said he wanted an interview and a few words on a one of their shows. It was supposed to be a real report and not some poster billboard. The reporter who was supposed to write up the article was on sick leave because they had contracted influenza.

Well, Christian was at first hesitate about setting foot inside anything remotely like a stage, it conjured up to many bad memories of his late Satine. All the flashing lights and glittering clothes and faces were too agonizing. Though, he gave Mr. Du Bois his word that he'd go. He was very persistent—and threatened to fire him if he didn't.

And so, on a clear Tuesday night, Christian set out to the Silver Stage to make his report and interview. He dressed in his usual shirt and coat, put on his hat and rubbed his beard and out the door his went. He wasn't exactly a patron so he figured he didn't have to dress for the evening since he was on the job.r

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Meanwhile, on opening night at the Silver Stage things was chaos. The leading lady for the opening act, Ms. Nightingale had somehow lost her voice while consuming a love potion on her day off. It turned out that Ms. Nightingale was very superstitious and had fallen head over heals for her new beau. Apparently, he was a very rich man and she wanted to woo him so she'd be his future wife.

However, perhaps it was too much wasabi or chilly-powder in the tonic, but the diva lost her song and now the stage-manager was in an uproar in finding a replacement at the last minute. The stage-manger, Mr. Fits shouted, "I'm ruined! I need someone to take over for Ms. Nightingale, but who?"

Though, suddenly Cherie, a dancer grabbed the bookish looking Abigail and shoved her in front of Mr. Fits. And with a firm hand on her shoulder she said, "Here, monsieur. La petite, Ms. Abigail has a lovely singing voice. She can cover for Ms. Nightingale till she is well."

Appalled, Mr. Fits replied, "But look at her! She's a door-mouse. She—she a wall flower. No! Bring me someone else."

Cherie frowned and shouted, "No! It is you who are wrong, Monsieur Fits. She is the best we have. Give me 10 minutes and I will have this wall flower sparkle like a diamond."

The poor stage-manager groaned and rubbed his balding head for the fifth time and said, "Fine. We haven't got time for all this. Paint that plain Jane still she looks like Helen of Troy. We need a miracle people, now let's go!"

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**Location: Dressing rooms**

With a moan, Abigail whined, "Oh, Cherie! I can't believe you suggested such a thing. I can't go out on stage. I just can't. I'll make a fool of myself and die in humiliation."

The dancer pulled on the young woman's arm and pushed her behind a changing screen and then rummaged through a rack of costumes and till she find what she was looking for and threw it into Abigail's face.

"Here, my pet. Put this on and quite your bellyaching. The show must go on. And besides, you said you loved the theatre."

Meanwhile, behind the screen Abigail twisted and turned to change her clothes and replied, "Yes, I do love theatre, Cherie but not to perform. I love literature. I love romance. I told you I want to write, not be somebody to be written about."

The dancer laughed and then pulled Abigail away from the screen and sighed. "You, my petite are too timid. You need music. You need dance. You need some excitement. Oh, you need a little romance."

Cherie then moved Abby to sit down on a stood and clutched her tongue. "You need to do something with that hair."

Abby then turned around with alarm and said, "No, no, no—please Cherie. Don't make me into your painted dolls."

The dancer then placed her hand on her head and turned it back around to face the mirror. "No complaining. In fact, I think I have a brilliant idea to fit your stage fright and allow me to do your hair properly."

Abby narrowed her eyes and said, "And what would that be?"

Cherie laughed and replied, "You will just have to wait and see, my petite."

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Silver Stage

**Chapter 2**

When Christian arrived at the theater house he saw that large crowds of middle class bohemians were all over the place. There was laughter in the air and the summer time in France was terribly romantic. Though, they were a civilized group and keep things strictly to hand holding and polite pecks on the cheek. Yet watching the masses at play just sent Christian into a deeper state of depression.

He waddled through the crowd and found a seat and pulled out the playbill he was handed at the door and looked at the program. As it turned out tonight's performance was going to feature an opening act by a special diva named Ms. Nightingale. She was supposed to be a rising star and would later appear in the next production.

Mentally, Christian didn't think much about the diva or the Shakespearean play of,_ As You Like It_. His just loath to idea of finding the leading lady and conducting his interview. Normally, during the weeks approaching the anniversary of Satine's death he usually liked staying in.

Suddenly, a stagehand appeared and announced, "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, tonight's first performance will be a number by one of England's rising stars. She has the voice of an angel and the looks of a temptress, I present to you the enchanting Ms. Nightingale!"

Then, magically red curtain began to rise and the orchestra began to play. He saw a sheer veil with sequences slowly lift away and reveal the silhouette of a woman outlined on a blue lit stage. Everything around her seemed to shimmer like stars and diamonds and then slowly her head lifted up and he saw the loveliest pair of eyes gaze directly at him from behind a silver crescent moon mask.

Abruptly, the stage was bathed in a soft blue glow and a spotlight illuminated her form from above and she began to sing.

Can anybody find me somebody to love?  
Each morning I get up I die a little  
Can barely stand on my feet  
Take a look in the mirror and cry  
Lord what you're doing to me  
I have spent all my years in believing you  
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!  
Somebody, somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard every day of my life  
I work till I ache my bones  
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -  
I get down on my knees  
And I start to pray  
Till the tears run down from my eyes  
Lord - somebody - somebody  
Can anybody find me - somebody to love?

(He works hard)

Everyday - I try and I try and I try -  
But everybody wants to put me down  
They say I'm goin' crazy  
They say I got a lot of water in my brain  
Got no common sense  
I got nobody left to believe  
Yeah - yeah yeah yeah

Oh Lord  
Somebody - somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Got no feel, I got no rhythm  
I just keep losing my beat  
I'm ok, I'm alright  
Ain't gonna face no defeat  
I just gotta get out of this prison cell  
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

When the song had ended, Christian could not help feeling like he had been cast under a spell. Oh, Ms. Nightingale was so beautiful. Her voice was like heaven and—there was just something about her that pulled at his heart. It was like someone had opened all the window and doors to his soul and let a fresh cool breeze sweep up inside him. He just had to meet her. He just had to speak with her, if only for one time.

In a wave of excitement, he rose from his seat and made his way to behind the stage. He explained to the stagehand he was a member of the press and wanted to speak with the diva, but the stage-manager arrived and eased him away.

In a whisper, Mr. Fits said, "Please sir, you cannot come backstage. We are setting up for the play."

Christian replied, "But, I only want to meet her for a moment. You see I'm with the press and I'm writing an article on your theatre."

Mr. Fits shook his head, "No, no sir. It is not possible. The diva has other plans this evening. She is not available for an interview."

"Then, perhaps I can interview her tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow is a much better time. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a show to put on."

Mr. Fits then pulled the curtain closed and cut Christian off like he'd slammed a door. The stagehand took pity on the rough looking reporter and said, "Sir, you ought to return to your seat. The play is about to begin."

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The next day, bright and early Christian went to the Silver Stage to get his exclusive interview with Ms. Nightingale. He had already written a draft of his critique on the play, but he was eager to speak with the charming veiled diva. She seemed so lovely and innocent and her voice—god he couldn't get over her beautiful voice. And even though she was sing to the whole audience, it felt like she was sing directly to him—like she was speaking to him. He felt there was a connection there, but he wanted to know if it was real or if he was just imagining it.

Though, before he knew it he was standing in front of her private dressing room and felt self-conscious. He tugged on his coat and touched his hat and smoothed his hand over his face and wondered if he shouldn't have taken the time to shave. He then mustered up his courage and knocked on the door.

After a pause, the door opened and revealed one of the dancers in Ms. Nightingale's opening act. She had a mass of curly blonde hair and was wearing a robe and gave Christian and once over before frowning and said, "Who are you?"

Christian removed his hat and replied, "My name is Christian. I'm a reporter. I saw Ms. Nightingale performance last evening and wondered if I may interview her for an article I'm writing on the Silver Stage's new opening."

The blonde's eyes widen in excitement and she exclaimed, "Wee, monsieur! Come in. Come in." She then turned her head inside the room and shouted, "My petite! You have a member of the press here to interview you. Please, stop your fidgeting and be still."

In a rush, Abby came to Cherie's side and pulled on her arm and said, "No, Cherie! This charade is going too far. I can't pretend to be Nightingale on _and_ off the stage. What will happen once she returns?"

Cherie gave Christian a big smile and said, "Please, monsieur. Give me one moment with the diva."

Cherie then closed the door and turned to Abby. "What is wrong with you? Why are you worried about that painted cow when you can have a little glory? You have the makings of a fine singer, Abigail. Stop wasting your time with these silly ideas of writing and books and live a little. And besides, the public mustn't know that it was you and not Ms. Nightingale that sang last night or they will be very displeased."

"But, I'm not her! And what's so wrong about books anyway? I don't want to be a singer. I want to be a playwright—a novelist."

Cherie scuffed at Abigail's reply and moved to seat her down at the vanity. "Abigail, listen. You don't have to say much to this man. Just put on the mask and pretend you were rehearsing. Just answer his questions simply and when the real Ms. Singbird comes back she can talk all she wants."

Shyly, Abigail looked down and sighed. "I guess I can do that, Cherie. But, for the record I think this stinks. I'm not ashamed of who I am—even if people think I'm a wall flower."

Excitedly, Cherie said, "Wonderful! I will send the reporter in."

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TBC

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**Author's Note**: featured song "Somebody to Love", by Queen is not owned by me. Please enjoy reading and reviewing. Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I don't own the song, "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" by Frankie Valli.

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The Silver Stage

**Chapter 3**

When Christian entered the dressing room he saw Ms. Nightingale was dressed a Japanese style robe with white high heels and wearing her brilliant silver moon mask. Her lovely chocolate hair was twisted up in a French knot and she gave him a dazzling smile.

"Welcome to my dressing room, sir. Won't you come in?"

Christian bowed to the diva and removed his hat and saw an empty chair and sat down. Nervously, he looked around and noticed an assortment of lucky charms and amulets were everywhere among her clothing and customs which including a white rabbit's foot, several dried pressed shamrocks and a disturbing gorilla's hand. At this last item, Christian was beginning to think that Ms. Nightingale wasn't so enchanting after all. Her superstitious hoard seemed to give the appeal of a sorceress rather than an angel.

Anxieties, Christian pulled out his pencil and paper and tried to appear professional. "Yes, well—Ms. Nightingale. I hope you don't mind answering a few questions for the press. I'm sure your public would like to know you better."

The masked beauty also took a seat opposite him and replied, "Yes, go right ahead, sir."

"Please, call me Christian. Now, how long have you been a singer, Ms. Nightingale?"

"For a few years now."

Christian paused at how short and non-specific the diva was being, but supposed she might be conscious about her age or something. He jotted down a note and continued.

"What drove you to move from England to France and join the Silver Stage?"

"I want to expand my audience and the Silver Stage is most convenient."

"I see, and what motivated you to become a singer?"

"Oh, I love singing. I've always loved singing."

Christian made another note, but stopped and stared at the diva perplexed. "Excuse me, Miss, but wouldn't you be more comfortable conducting this interview without you wearing that mask?"

"Oh, no. I was rehearsing when you arrived, Christian. I always feel more in my role when I wear a piece of my costume."

"Yes, but I can tell you're suffering from the heat under that mask, Miss. I wouldn't want you to faint."

"Faint? Why, no. I'll be fine. Though, I might need a glass of water. Please, excuse me."

Abigail then rose from her seat and reached for a glass of water from a pitcher sitting on a table stand when suddenly she swayed and fainted. Alarmed, Christian leaped from his chair and rushed to the diva's side and rolled her onto her back. He grabbed her shoulder and shook her.

"Ms. Nightingale? Ms. Nightingale, please wake up."

Though, it was no use. She was passed out cold and bewildered on what to do next, Christian let curiosity get the better of him and he removed the singer's mask and placed it next to her on the floor. He placed his hand on her cheek and saw that she was actually quite beautiful.

She had a slender face with smooth skin and a youthful glow. She was much younger than he thought she was and she was also such a natural beauty. She didn't have make-up or powder on—no, she was fresh and unspoiled like a sprite. Christian gazed at the woman spellbound. She was so innocent looking in her sleep that he dreaded to have to be the one to wake her. And so, carefully he reached up and poured a bit of water into the glass from the pitcher and slashed the diva on the face.

In an instant she sprang to life and being to gasp and wipe her eyes. "Oh! I'm drowning!"

Christian couldn't help, but laugh at her response and removed his handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab her face. In a huff, the diva took the handkerchief from his hand and proceeded to clean up the rest.

"What happened? Why am I on the floor? Are you trying to take advantage of me?"

"What! No! You got overheated and fainted. You should really try rehearing at a cooler location, Miss."

Suddenly, the singer gasped and covered her face with her two hands and mumbled, "Oh, my mask! You've seen me without it."

Christian smiled and said, "And what's so wrong about that? You look beautiful Ms. Nightingale, like a nymph."

In response, the diva pulled her hands away from her face and stared at him shocked. Meanwhile, Christian couldn't believe he just said that. It was so improper to just blurt out something like that. He hardly even knew her. At this rate she might actually think he had tried to take advantage of her.

Stumbling to his feet, Christian stood and felt tongue-tied. "Listen—look, I mean I'm sorry, Miss for being too forward. I don't want there to be any misunderstanding."

Dumbly, the diva rose and Christian immediately gave her his hand to steady her. Wide-eye she gazed into his blue eyes with her dark ones and said, "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

Christian blushed and replied, "Yes, I do. In fact, you look lovelier than I imagined."

And then suddenly, in a burst of song he began to sing:

You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.  
You'd be like Heaven to touch.  
I wanna hold you so much.  
At long last love has arrived  
And I thank God I'm alive.  
You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.

Pardon the way that I stare.  
There's nothing else to compare.  
The sight of you leaves me weak.  
There are no words left to speak,  
But if you feel like I feel,  
Please let me know that it's real.  
You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.

I love you, baby,  
And if it's quite alright,  
I need you, baby,  
To warm a lonely night.  
I love you, baby.  
Trust in me when I say:  
Oh, pretty baby,  
Don't bring me down, I pray.  
Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay  
And let me love you, baby.  
Let me love you.

You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.  
You'd be like Heaven to touch.  
I wanna hold you so much.  
At long last love has arrived  
And I thank God I'm alive.  
You're just too good to be true.  
Can't take my eyes off you.

I love you, baby,  
And if it's quite alright,  
I need you, baby,  
To warm a lonely night.  
I love you, baby.  
Trust in me when I say:  
Oh, pretty baby,  
Don't bring me down, I pray.  
Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay..

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TBC

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This song rocks more! So I changed it. I hope this fits better. Please enjoy and reveiw. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

The Silver Stage

**Chapter 4**

Abigail was overwhelmed when Christian ended his song. She had never heard such wonderful words before in her life. There was so much feeling and—appeal. She so wanted to believe him when he said he wanted her—that he thought she was beautiful. She felt her heart flutter in her chest and she smiled brightly as she innocently turned away in embarrassment.

"Oh, my. I—I don't know what to say. That song—those words—they were so beautiful. You are such a poetic soul, Christian. You stir in me such beautiful feelings. They're so—so _bohemian_."

"Bohemian?"

Suddenly, Christian began to panic. He suddenly remembered the first time he desired to be a bohemian, back when he believed in such things like beauty, freedom and love. Back when he first came to the Moulin Rouge and fell in love with Satine. And now, since her death and his dreams gone all away like smoke, he didn't want to experience things like love ever again. He couldn't bear to suffer another heartbreak no matter how charming and nymph-like Ms. Nightingale appeared. By god! Why did he have to go and fall in love again? And with another singer too? What was wrong with him?

Abruptly, Christian grabbed his hat and inched his way towards the door. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Nightingale, but this is a mistake. I—I don't, I mean I can't. I shouldn't have told you those things."

Abigail wrinkled her nose, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Christian then inhaled a deep breath and stood up straighter and said, "I don't love you, Ms. Nightingale. Please forgive me for misleading you. You are very charming, but I allowed my feelings to get the best of me."

The diva huffed. "I don't believe you."

"What? But, I just said it was all a misunderstanding."

Abby then took a step closer to the reporter and said, "And I don't believe you."

Christian scuffed at the diva's stubbornness and replied, "Then, believe what you want, but it isn't true."

Annoyed, the diva answered, "Fine. Deny it all you want, but you're the one who started all this nonsense about love, beauty and nymphs. I've never been so confused in my life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think you ought to leave."

"Fine. I will leave. Good-day Madame."

Swiftly, Christian turned around and marched towards the door and swung to open with great force and excited the dressing room. He had never been so irritated, yet so perplexed in his life. He didn't know what had gotten into him to say such things to a complete stranger. He already knew now that love didn't always mean happy endings and they certainty didn't end well with ladies of the stage.

Mumbling to himself he said, "Damn, Christian what's wrong with you? Isn't having your heart broken once good enough?"

He glanced up at the entrance of the Silver Stage and gazed at the glittering lights and large printed letters of the great diva's name. She had no doubt many admirers and he was probably only one of many. It was pointless of him to confess his feelings that way—but the glow in her dark lovely eyes and that innocent flush on her youthful cheeks—she was still such a beautiful songbird.

Christian then shook his head and tried to shake out the thought. He didn't have time for chasing out of reach idols. He had to get what little information he got from the diva and compose a stellar report for his article and turn it in to Mr. Du Bois.

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However, back in the dressing room Abby sighed and flopped herself down at the vanity and covered her face with her hands. She just couldn't believe what just happened. Oh, why did she have to open her big mouth and say such things?

She groaned and let her head fall all the way down onto the table top with a thud and didn't hear Cherie come in and close the door. The dancer then tiptoed over to the lady-writer and sat down next to her on her seat.

"So, my sweet, how did the interview go?"

Still faced down the girl replied, "Horrible."

Cherie laughed and said, "You exaggerate. I'm sure it wasn't all that bad."

"No, it was worse. I got overheated in this stupid little room and fainted that he ended up taking off my mask and then he told me that he loved me than he took it back. God, I wish the earth would just swallow me up already and be done with it."

Startled, the dancer rose and shouted, "What do you mean your mask fell off? This is horrible. He will see you are not the real Ms. Nightingale."

Abby then shook her head in her arms and said, "Oh, what does it matter? He didn't seem to notice. My guess is he doesn't know what she really looks like or he'd have known on the spot."

"Then—we are still saved! Thank Shakespeare! We can just have the real Ms. Nightingale release another interview and have it published in the paper before Mr. Christian prints his. With luck perhaps our little switch at the opening act will be overlooked."

Cherie excitedly began to head towards the door when she paused and said, "Did you say he told you he loved you?"

Abigail lifted her head up at last and frowned. "Yes, and he then took it back. The man is full of mixed signals."

Cherie snorted, "Men! He sounds like a schoolboy. What did you do, my pet?"

"Oh, I told him I didn't believe him and then I told him to leave. But, Cherie that isn't the worst part. I honestly think I liked him. And—it just makes me hate him all the more."

The dancer smiled and approached Abby and gave her head a kiss and smoothed her hair. "Don't worry over such a boy, Abigail. He was obvious not worthy of your love. And I thought you were wise enough not to believe every pretty word a stranger tells you."

Solemnly, she replied, "Yes, I know, but you should have seen the look in his eyes, Cherie. The eyes are the windows to the soul and his was lovely."

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TBC

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Please enjoy and review. Thanks you.


	5. Chapter 5

The Silver Stage

Chapter 5

Christian sat in front of his typewriter and stared at the horrifying blank piece of paper with dread. He had been home nearly an hour and he still could not get Ms. Nightingale's face out of his head. She was just so lovely and he had been so stupid and life was just—just hard. He still couldn't get over the fact he said such romantic things to her.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. He muttered to himself, "Get over her Christian, it's never going to happen." He then rolled his shoulders and was about to type again when Toulouse opened the door and leaned against the threshold with a grin.

"Hello Christian! How are you feeling today?"

Without looked up from his work, the writer replied, "Oh, I'm alright, Toulouse I'm just working on something for the newspaper."

"Oh good, I thought you were still—I mean, why don't we go out, yes? Summer in France is splendid you know."

"Maybe some other time. I have to finish my article on the Silver Stage by tomorrow."

Toulouse in response beamed at the name and rushed in and shouted, "Did you say the Silver Stage? Oh, I just love that theatre. They are so classy. They do all the Shakespearean plays and the modern ones too. Madame Nightingale is said to have the voice of an angel, but I thought Christian that you only wrote ads for the newspaper?"

"Yes, but one of the reporters is sick so I'm taking over in his place, but Toulouse, do you happen to know anything about Madame Nightingale? Personally, I mean."

The little man grabbed a chair and sat down on it backwards and said, "Well, I do know is that she has a very rich boyfriend here in Paris and that she is good friends with the new wealthy American owner, Mr. Jenkins. I heard his owns a department store some place big."

"Boyfriend? Do you happen to know who her boyfriend is?"

"Sorry, Christian. I don't know, but I'll try and find out for you from some of my friends."

"Thank you, Toulouse I appreciate it."

He then saw his friend exit the apartment in a flash and he shook his head and tired to finish he's article. Though, he's thoughts began to stray again to Ms. Nightingale. He wondered what sort of boyfriend she had and why was she so willing to give him any sort interest when he sang to her.

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Meanwhile, back at the theatre Cherie stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door behind her with a bang. She saw Abby sitting quietly with her nose stuck inside a book again and quickly marched up to her and snatched it away.

"Hey! I was reading that, Cherie. What's wrong with you?"

Fuming, the dancer roared, "What is wrong with me! What is wrong with me! I will tell you what is the matter and the matter is Madame Nightingale. I just heard for the manager talking to her maid. It turns out our poor Madame is out sick, but everyone know she is really out playing with her new boyfriend, Monsieur Rich. She is snubbing the stage, Abigail! I do not know why Mr. Jenkins does not just kick her out in the street."

Abby shrugged and picked up her book and flipped through the pages. "What does it matter? I just open they can find somebody else to replace her soon. I'm tired of playing dress up."

In response, Cherie stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. "By the gods, why didn't I think of this before? You can now make your big chance. You can be the new singing act."

The bookworm wrinkled her nose, "What? No, no I can't. I won't. I'm sick flash clothes, powdered make-up, men undressing me with their dirty eyes and—and nosy reporters not being able to mind their own business. Now, please leave me alone."

The dancer stood up with her hands on her hip and stared down at Abby in shock and then moved to point at her with her finger. "You! You are still upset over that lousy boy."

Abruptly, the brown-eyed beauty fell out of her chair and scrabbled up to her feet and brushed back her hair. "No! I couldn't careless about Monsieur Christian. This has nothing to do with him. I told you already I want to be a play-write, not a singer."

Cherie in answer covered his hand over her mouth and turned around and pressed her hands together over her heart and declared, "Great Shakespeare! She is in love."

"No! Cherie, stop saying that! It isn't true and I don't have to listen to you. Good-bye."

The brown-eyed bookworm then picked up her book off the floor and picked up her shawl and marched outside the door without another world. However, once she got out into the street she was so furious that she didn't look were she was going when she got to the end of the block and collided into a man.

"Oh! Oh my, goodness me. I'm so sorry. Are you alright, sir?"

"Ms. Nightingale? Is that you?"

Abby pulled back her hat and saw that it was Christian. He seemed taken back by her appearance. She looked so ordinary and plain like some librarian or a schoolteacher. She didn't look at all like the Great Diva of the Silver Stage. She was so humble looking and—and strangely tangible. She no longer seemed like an unearthly star, but a real young woman who was made of actual flesh and blood. It made her somehow more attractive then she ever was in her dressing room in costume.

However, the spell was broken when Abby pushed his hat back and tapped his on the forehead with her book.

"Ouch!"

"Wake up, Mister Christian. I asked you if you were alright."

"Oh, I'm sorry Ms. Nightingale. I'm fine. How are you? I didn't recognize you out of costume."

Abby bit her lip and wondered about this man. He was after all the reason why she was so cross with Cherie. There was no way she was infatuated with him. He was such a ninny.

She quickly turned around and muttered, "I'm fine, sir. And no, I don't go about everywhere in costume. Now, good day."

Yet, Christian was draw to her and swiftly followed her as she marched away towards the park. He jogged up to her side and said, "I must apologize again Ms. Nightingale for our misunderstanding in your dressing room. I had no intention of dishonoring you."

In a huff, she strode onward through the grass and trees and coupled enjoying the warm weather and replied, "Yes, well, apology accepted now leave me alone."

Curious, he stopped walked and asked, "Why are you so angry with me?"

Abby paused mid-step and hotly turned around and pointed at Christian at his chest and shouted, "I'LL TELL—I mean, I'll tell you why, Mister Christian. And that is because you told me you felt—well, you said you loved me and then you went and took it back. You, sir are infuriating."

The brown-eyed beauty then lifted the hem of her dress and made a mad dash across the park and entered the library. Meanwhile, Christian was flabbergasted. He couldn't believe this woman. She was behaving so childish. He narrowed his brow and followed her inside the building.

He saw her pass through an aisle in the ancient history section and began to pursue her. He had no idea why she would be here. It was so unusual for a diva to in such a place. He normally thought divas liked to spend their time in nightclubs, cafés or restaurants. Even a music hall would have made more sense than this place.

Then, at last he found her nose deep in a book on ancient Egypt and he lightly tapped her on the shoulder and watched her squeak before turning around to scowl at him. She pressed the open pages to her chest and tilted her head at her in confusion.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed.

Dumbfounded, he stammered, "I—I, well, I mean, I—"

"You what? You got your damn interview from me what more do you want?"

Suddenly, she heard somebody in the library hush. Startled, she walked towards the end of the aisle and looked around her and then moved back towards Christian and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards a stairwell and shoved him through the door.

Though, once they were alone she crossed her arms over her chest defensively and said, "Well, what is it?"

Christian quickly snatched his hat off his head and began to anxiously bend the rim and glanced down to the floor before locking eyes with her and blurted out, "Will you go out with me, Ms. Nightingale?"

"What?"

"Can I court you?"

"Oh…yes."

"What?"

"Yes."

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TBC

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Please review. Thank you.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I don't own "At Last" by Etta James.

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The Silver Stage

Chapter 6

Amazed, Christian stared at Abigail in a daze. He just could not believe what he was hearing. He made a face and asked again, "Are you serious?"

"Yes…I am. Wait, you're not tricking me again, are you?"

"What? No! I'm dead serious, it's just that I didn't think you'd agree."

Abby narrowed her brow and moved her hands onto her hips. "Then, why bothering asking me?"

Christian smiled at his own audacity and rubbed his arm and said, "Well, I was hoping and I haven't really been hoping for much of anything lately. Just please, let us start all over again." He then placed his hat in his left hand behind his back and extended his right for her to take.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Nightingale. Hello, my name is Christian."

In response, Abby was still a little suspicious. She herself wasn't so sure why she said yes, but—no, no that wasn't true. What she had said to Cherie had been right all along. She stared into his big beautiful eyes and felt like she'd glimpse into a pure soul and was infatuated with his handsome face. Shakespeare! Why did she have to be so weak?

Unconsciously, she hadn't realized she had fallen into the play of her emotions and covered her face with her hands in self-mortification. Perplexed, Christian straightened up and wasn't sure if he said something wrong. She was such a strange beauty.

"Ah, Ms. Nightingale? Are you alright? Did I offend you?"

Startled, she removed her hands and gasped, "Oh, no! It's—it's nothing. Just don't call me by my stage name"—she then reached forward and shook his hand—"Hello, call me Abigail."

"Abigail?"

Christian had to admit that her real name was much more charming than her stage name. It was almost mystical—_Abigail_. It suited her completely. And it also added to her practical allure because a woman like Abigail sounded like somebody who could live without the stage. She sounded like a person who could cope with sensible ideals. She sounded like a woman who was different from Satine.

"Are you free this evening, Abigail?"

Shocked, she replied, "Oh, you mean you want to start courting me now?"

"Well, if you're available then perhaps I could take you out to the—the—"

"To the art gallery?"

"Yes, to the art gallery. Wait, what art gallery?"

Beaming, Abby exclaimed, "There's this wonderful art exhibit being held at the Literary Society. It's a tux and tie affair I'm afraid. We will both have to change, but it's open to the public and I've been dying to see it."

Christian smiled and said, "Then, it's a date."

Abby nodded and grinned. "Yes, yes it is. Oh, but I've got to go. I'll see you later."

The brown-eyed beauty then went to open the stairwell door to leave, but quickly Christian caught her hand and said, "Wait. When should I meet you? Where should we meet up?"

"Oh," stammered Abby nervously. She almost overlooked that. Christian then observed as she thoughtfully rubbed her brow and bit her upper lip and replied, "Ah, well—how about 5 o'clock in front of the library."

Bewildered, Christian said, "Yes, 5 o'clock will be fine, but are you sure you'll be safe without an escort from home?"

"Oh, I'm a worldly woman, Christian. I'm an American girl."

The young-writer was amused by her boldness and replied, "Well, as you wish, Miss Abigail. Till then."

Cheerfully, she paused and gave him a smile and said, "Yes, till then" and then she was gone.

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Later that evening, Christian found himself in front of the library at night waiting to pick up Abigail. He had to admit he was having second thoughts again about what he was doing. It wasn't like him to just pick up any girl and ask her out on a date, but then again, Abigail wasn't just some girl. She had been the first woman to catch his eye since Satin and he felt that maybe it was time to put her memory to rest. He couldn't keep living in the past and Abigail seemed like respectable young lady. She was a good change for him to have.

Though, Christian was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that his date had arrived and tapped him lightly from behind his back. He quickly turned and was stunned to see his once starlit diva, sometime bookworm was now an elegant enchantress. She was dressed in a beautiful evening gown that was dark wine and draped around her shoulders was a sheer black shawl. Her hair was simply pinned up upon her head and her face was very natural, as it had been earlier that day at late noon. In short, he thought she looked amazing.

Bashfully, she flushed and said, "I—I didn't think you'd come."

"What! Of course, I'd come. You invited me. I insist."

She shyly lowered her gaze and retorted, "Yes, but I can never be too sure about you, Christian."

Mentally, he was crushed. He had no idea he had made such an awful first impression. Well, that did it. He was now determined to turn Abigail's opinion on its head. He wanted a change in his life and by Jove he was going to do it and show her he meant business no matter what.

Gallantly, Christian bowed and lifted her hand to his lips and gave her gloved fingers a kiss and said, "I promise, Miss Abigail. I won't abandon you this evening. You're stuck with me now."

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As the evening progressed, the pair lightly talked as they took a carriage to the Literary Society to view their art exhibit. Christian had to admit he hadn't been to such a place before even when he was passionate about bohemian ideals. In fact, he hadn't had much time to experience much anything since he had gotten to Paris and fell in with the Spectacular, Spectacular. The stage had consumed his world whole back then that he hadn't had a chance to or the interest to dabble in any of the other arts. It really was a shame.

"Oh, I just know you'll like it, Christian. So many patrons in one room, so many loves of things beautiful and grand—oh, it's an environment that just nurtures the soul."

"Oh yes, I'm sure. But won't there be a lot of wealthy people at the exhibit as well?"

Abby shrugged. "Well, I suppose, but we're not there to count people's purses. And an artist has to earn a living somehow."

Bitterly, Christian knew all too well what the value of money had on the world. He knew how it drove people apart and how it made others do unspeakable things. And as far as he was concerned money only served to taint the beauty Abigail spoke of.

Though, eagerly Abby grabbed his hand without a care in the world and leaped out of the carriage like a schoolgirl and headed straight to the Literary Society as though she hadn't a care in the world. Enthusiastically, she gave the doorman her invitation at the door and proceeded in like a child in a candy store.

"Oh my! It's so splendid here I think I could break into song."

Christian swiftly took her arm and said, "I don't think that would be appropriate in a place like this Abigail."

At last, my love has come along  
My lonely days are over  
And life is like a song

Oh, yeah, at last  
The skies above are blue  
My heart was wrapped up in clovers

The night I looked at you  
I found a dream that I could speak to  
A dream that I can call my own  
I found a thrill to rest my cheek to  
A thrill that I have never known

Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile  
Oh, and then the spell was cast  
And here we are in heaven  
For you are mine  
At last

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TBC

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It's alive! I actually thought nobody liked this story since I hardly got any reviews, but I took it up again since I saw I got a few more hits. The plot seems a bit thin now but I do have a plot swirling around in my mind for this thing. And yes, the "American girl" comment is in reference to _Daisy Miller, _1878 novella by Henry James. Another dying girl and dumb guy tale, but this story will definitely not go down that road.

Please review. Thank you.


	7. Chapter 7

The Silver Stage

Chapter 7

Christian felt his heart swore after he heard the Abigail sing her song. It was so enchanting and so pure. It was simply amazing that he felt overcome with feelings he had not felt since the passing of his beloved Satine. Yet, somehow this brown-eyed beauty flew higher and more freely than any soul he had ever met. And without even realizing it, he discovered he was standing before her and holding her hands like she was his anchor in a whirlwind of numb unconnecting madness he knew as his life.

Beaming, he then closed his eyes and tilted his head to give her a surprising kiss on the lips. However, Abby was unprepared for the touch of lips and gasped unexpectedly at the public display of affection.

"What? What's wrong?"

Abby blushed and cupped her hand near her mouth to whisper for only Christian to hear. "Umm, well—we aren't exactly alone."

Startled, the young-writer pulled back and turned his head to see that several patrons who were entering the building were standing about and staring at them expectantly in the lobby. Embarrassed, Christian ducked his head and quickly took Abby's hand and tugged her along.

"Oh, well. I guess we'd better go in."

He then presented her his arm and graciously she took it and happily the two entered towards the gallery. The pair politely wooed and awed while they commented and laughed at several impressionist works of art. Christian had a hard time keeping a straight face among the elitist crowd of upper class bohemians as Abby tried to contort her face into the odd cubists styles they saw hanging on the walls. And on a few occasions he had to pull her hand away to chide her for behaving like a kid, but like a wave of dread Christian unexpectedly turned and saw the last person he wanted to see on earth.

"The Duke…no."

Christian saw that somehow coincidentally that the Duke and his mean bald manservant were here attending the same art gallery as he and his date. Dread quickly descended in his blood and he panicked and tried to make an escape.

Swiftly, he grabbed Abby's hand and said, "Oh goodness, this is nice. Well, I think we better go."

"What? But we just got here. We can't go. There is still so much to see."

"Ah, well I'm sure you're famished. Why don't we go find a place to eat?"

The young-writer than directed the brown-eyed beauty towards the door, but suddenly she saw something that filled her with fear. For there, standing at the doorway at the lobby was the real Ms. Nightingale.

"Oh Shakespeare!"

Abby then turned abruptly and bumped into Christian's chest. Startled, she stumbled back and held onto his arm to keep her balance and said, "I—I don't think we should leave—at least, not yet."

Christian nervously gave her a smile and said, "Oh, but the night is still so young. I thought that maybe we could do something else besides the gallery."

"No, we ought to stay a while. I—I have yet looked at all the pieces yet. Come on." Abigail tried to redirect Christian back towards a really big statue she'd seen towards the back. It would provide the prefect cover so she wouldn't have to talk to Ms. Nightingale, but unfortunately it looked like the diva spotted her.

"Abby! Abby is that you, dear?"

In a pinch, Abigail closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She could not believe that this was happening, yet when she turned around she managed to plaster a false smile on her face and politely air-kissed the songstress' cheek.

"Oh, well if it isn't—isn't, my dear friend. How are you darling?"

Ms. Nightingale beamed and clasped her hands together and placed them under her chin. "Oh, splendid, my peach, just splendid. I am here on an outing with my new beau. Oh, he is to die for, my little wallflower. I consulted my horoscope and it said he's the one. I'll bet my best lucky rabbit's foot on it." Then, casually she looked over her shoulder and waved her gloved hand over her shoulder at a gentleman off into the crowd. "Oh, look there. There he is—my prince charming. Yoo-hoo! Sweetie-pie. I'm here, darling!"

Abigail narrowed her brow and turned to look and saw some strange funny red-ish haired looking man with a beard who appeared very thin and accompanied by a large brute. This was no Abby's idea of "prince charming" but she knew better than to say anything.

She stopped and stared as the thin gentleman gave Ms. Nightingale an awkward peck on the cheek and stiffly held her hand like a trophy. He then gave Abby a strange smile and gave her a bow.

"Hello, Miss. Are you an acquaintance of my Maggie?"

In reaction, the brown-eyed beauty was stunned. Maggie? Who the heck was Maggie? Though, like a bolt of lightening she understood. Yes, of course, Ms. Nightingale wouldn't go around being called by her stage name by her boyfriend. Thank Shakespeare for small favors.

Relieved, Abby now truly smiled and said, "Yes, sir. I am a member of the Sliver Stage. My name is Abigail and this is my date, Chris"—she turned and saw that Christian was gone—"Oh, where did he go?"

Abigail looked around and tried to find her journalist and saw him hiding behind her large statue. She strode up to the—the horse?—and pulled at Christian hand.

Whispering, she said, "Christian? What's the matter? Why are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding. Who's hiding?"

Abby began to frown. "Don't be silly. You're the one who is hiding. Now, what's the matter with you?"

Christian panicked and peaked out over Abby's shoulder at the Duke and clutched her close. "It's just that—that" though suddenly the young-writer didn't know what to say. Should he spill and tell Abigail who the Duke really was and avoid him? Or should he tried and avoid a future confrontation and remain unseen? It wasn't like he could just say his last love was a courtesan and that the Duke was her last paying customer that used to want to kill him. It wasn't the sort of thing you revealed to a girl on a first date.

And who was that painted woman draped all over with beads? He looked again over the odd statue and saw that the woman was hanging onto the Duke like an expensive scarf on a coat rack. She was laughing wildly and pawing at him distastefully.

Did he really want to go out into that?

"No, I think I'm fine right here."

Exasperated, Abigail sighed and gave him a good yank. "Oh, you're just being silly."

"But I thought you like it when I was behaving silly? And you're one to talk. Making all those immature faces to look like those paintings."

Abby smiled and was about to speak, but startled she was shoved away aggressively by the Duke.

"YOU! What are you doing here?"

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TBC

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Please review. Thank you.


	8. Chapter 8

The Silver Stage

Chapter 8

Christian felt his blood ran cold as he stood face to face with the Duke. He wasn't sure what he should do or what he should say. He honestly thought he'd never see the man again and especially so after the passing of Satine. Wide-eyed with fear he tried to plan out his escape, but with a huff the Duke sneered at him and gestured for his manservant to remove him quickly. The bald man then stepped forward and was about to grab him and probably beat him to a pulp outside in the streets, when suddenly Abigail stepped in between them and smiled.

"Tell me, sir do you like the arts?"

Startled, the Duke began to twitch at the interruption and replied, "Yes young lady, I do, but if you could please kindly step away from that man."

Abby innocently paused and asked, "What man?"

Irked, the Duke stepped around her by the statue and shouted, "That man!" however to his surprise no one was there. The scandal had left. In then concluded that the girl must have been helping him. She aided in his escape.

"You—"

"Oh, sweetie-pie! Come, I want to show my absolute favorite artist."

Ms. Nightingale then latched onto her boyfriend's arm and started to drag him towards a large painting down the hall. He was so swept up in her delight that he didn't have time to finish what he wanted to say to Abigail. And all that came to pass was a dirty look form the Duke's brute as he followed his employer down the hall. Meanwhile, Abby felt distraught. She didn't know where Christian had gone or where he might be.

Nervously, she bit her bottom lip and looked around, but the gallery was crowded and she didn't know where to begin. She could just go about calling his name. It was likely make a scene and the Duke was already quite annoying as is.

"Christian…oh, where are you?"

Abby circled around the large ugly statue once and then spotted a man waving his hat near the lobby entrance. Puzzled, she saw that it was Christian. Agitated, she marched up to him and swatted at his arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"Some date you are!"

Abby then headed for the exit and walked down the front stairs. She was about to hail a carriage, when Christian quickly grabbed her hand and spun her around.

"Abigail, please. Don't go."

"And why not? You said you wouldn't abandon me this evening and you did. You just disappeared when the Duke came along and I don't understand. Christian I am not that naive. That man dislikes you and I want to know is why?"

Anxiously, Christian began to fidget and rub his hat before finally meeting her eyes. He didn't want to tell her about Satine, the Moulin Rouge and the Duke. He didn't want to tell her he was involved with a courtesan and so he decided to fib.

"The Duke is a very bad man. He dislikes me because he was once my employer and I quit."

Christian could not believe how easy it was to stretch the truth. He knew what he said didn't even come close to the heartache he felt over his encounter with the Duke, but he felt that Abigail would not want any part of him if she knew the whole story. He just prayed that his lie of omission would be enough to satisfy her curiosity.

"Well, I still don't like the fact that you left me and ran away."

"Then, let me make it up to you. Let's go have dinner. Together, just the two of us. You saved me Abigail. It's the least I can do to show my appreciation."

Abby paused and began to pace. She eyed Christian critically and watched as he deliberately began to pout and make faces until she finally laughed and nodded her head in agreement.

"All right, dinner it is, but no more."

Christian beamed and grabbed her hand and said, "You won't regret it, Abby. I swear."

Giggling, the two of them took off down the street and began to search for a quite and romantic restaurant to eat. They didn't notice the bald manservant following them from the shadows.

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**Location: the Silver Stage, next day**

Meanwhile, the next day Mr. Fits was in a rage. The stage manager could not believe that Nightingale was late for rehearsals again. He also couldn't find her understudy that wallflower Abigail. It wasn't the sort of thing that boded well for the theatre if their leading star kept skipping out. It also didn't help that the owner was coming to pay them a visit.

"Where's Nightingale?" asked Mr. Fits to Cherie.

"I don't know, but I'm worried about my little Abby. I spoke to her landlady and she said she did not come home last night and she is not in the theatre."

"Well, go find her. Mr. Jenkins is coming and he expects the show to run smoothly."

Surprised, Cherie said, "Mr. Jenkins? You mean the owner, the wealthy American?"

"Yeah, so you better find your friend or it's currents for us all."

"Wee, I think I may know someone who'd know where she is."

"Good, and send someone else to drag the diva back here too. I don't know how she can go around thinking she's the queen of Sheba."

Cherie nodded her head and quickly dashed out the backdoor and headed over to a boy she knew that worked at the newspaper. Swiftly, she asked him if he knew a reporter named Christian and where he lived.

-0-0-0-

**Location: Christian's apartment**

Laughing, Christian recited Abigail more samples of his poetry while he prepared them some breakfast. He couldn't remember having a better time in his life. Last night they hadn't left the restaurant until it closed. Then, afterwards they walked the streets together arm and arm and discussed bohemian ideals and literary delights. He discovered that Abby had a passion for novels and playwrights. She was a real dreamer like he had once been. She sought love, beauty and truth in everything.

And before daybreak they ended up at his apartment and cuddled on his bed until she finally drifted off to sleep. Reverently, he touched her face and hair and kissed her nose and cheeks. And as the sun began to rise and shine into his room he realized at that moment that he loved her. Abby was now precious to him. She was his nightingale and she only had to sing for him.

"Christian, you're going to burn the toast!"

He was suddenly shaken back to reality as he felt Abby bumped his over with her hip and began taking over cooking breakfast. Smiling, she kissed his cheek and said, "Go get some cups before you burn yourself."

He grinned at her and said, "All right, dear."

He was about to reach his cupboard when he heard a knock on his door. He wondered who it might be. He was expecting any guest, but when he opened it he was surprised to see that it was the girl from the Silver Stage.

She had her hand on her hip and she was glaring at him sternly. "You! You monsieur! What have you done with my little Abby?"

"Abigail? She's—"

She poked him in the chest and shouted, "I should have know you are a wolf in sheep's clothing. You most likely wooed my petite with your masculine charms and drop her like a rock after you had gotten you're kicks."

"Cherie! Stop that," cried Abby.

She moved the breakfast onto the table and marched up to her friend in bewilderment. She grabbed her hand away from Christian and asked, "What's the matter with you, anyway?"

"What are you doing in this man's apartment?"

"Cherie, nothing happened. Christian's a gentleman."

"Then, why did you not come home last night? Where have you been?"

Puzzled, Abigail replied, "I went out on a date. We talked—we talked so much that I lost track of time. But, Cherie, what is all this about anyway? I thought you wanted me to have romance in my life."

The dancer than gathered her up into a hug and exclaimed, "Yes, I do, but I was so worried. And the manager is in a jam. The owner is coming today and Ms"—she then looked at Christian and said—"Ms-no-show is missing again. The stage, she needs her star. You have to go."

"But, I'm a mess. I hardly slept, I haven't eaten and I'm wearing the same dress from yesterday."

"Wee, then we will swap dresses. I'm sure you can use Monsieur Christian's bath. Go, go get clean and then we must leave."

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TBC

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Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update. I haven't really been in the mood, but after watching Dawana Summers sing with Seal on TV I felt inspired to write some more.

Please review. Thank you.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: featured song "Somebody to Love," by Queen (again, its the openng act).

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The Silver Stage

Chapter 9

Abigail ended up changing in Christian's apartment since someone was using the common-bath. It was the downside of living in an apartment, but Cherie insisted that they exchange dresses. Christian ended up standing in the hall while the two changed and happened to see his old friend, Toulouse.

"Oh, good morning Christian. What are you doing standing outside of your apartment? Did you lose your key?"

Christian replied, "No, Toulouse. I'm—I'm waiting."

Puzzled, the little man asked, "Waiting? Waiting for what?"

Suddenly, the sound of ladies talking from the other side of the door could be heard. Both men paused and listened to one of them shout, _"What is the problem! You can lie in a strange man's bed, but you won't wear my dress? What is wrong with it?" _

In reaction, Toulouse turned to the young-writer and beamed. "Oh, you should have said you had company. I'm happy for you Christian. I was worried you were lonely."

Embarrassed, he replied, "Yes, well thank you, Toulouse."

The little man laughed. "Oh, there is nothing to be flustered about. Two ladies are always better than one. It's actually quite a feat, really."

Shocked, Christian exclaimed, "No! No, that is not what is going on. It's that one lady has an appointment and needs a fresh dress and her friend is exchanging hers."

Slightly disappointed, Toulouse replied, "Ah, well. I guess there is no point in jumping to conclusions, but I'm glad I ran into you anyway. I got a hold of some of my friends and they have some information on Ms. Nightingale. It turns out her rich boyfriend is none other then the Duke. I heard she wants to marry him for his money."

Dumbfounded, Christian didn't know what to say. It couldn't possibly be true. Abby would never match herself with the Duke. She was a dreamer—a true bohemian. She would never sell her principles just to have financial security. Also it didn't even seem like she even knew the Duke. The two had met at the art gallery and they were acting like complete strangers. They didn't seem like a pair at all. Horrified, Christian wondered if maybe that was her ploy. Was she really entangled with the Duke and two-timing him on the side? Was she playing him for a fool?

He shook his head and asked, "No Toulouse, are you sure?"

"Yes, positive. She has been courting him for sometime. I heard that's why she moved to Paris in the first place. To be with her new love."

Christian pensively pondered his friend's words. He still couldn't believe that Abby was cheating on him. She was such an honest girl. It had to be a mistake—it had to be wrong.

"Yes, well thank you again, Toulouse. I'll see you later."

"Fine, anytime Christian. I'm just glad you have a new lady friend."

However, the young-writer barely heard his friend's respond or see him leave. He was too much lost in thought thinking about Abigail.

Though, a moment later the door to his apartment opened and out walked Abby and Cherie. Abby was no longer wearing her crimson gown. Instead, she was wearing Cherie's more revealing pink dress. The collar was much wider and the corset on the gown displayed her curves beautifully.

Stunned, Christian stared at her appearance in awe. She looked amazing. Speechless, he watched as the brown-eyed beauty finally stopped fussing with the hem and caught his eye. She smiled brightly at him like the sun and playfully bowed to him before turning into a spin.

"Ta-da! Do you approve, Monsieur Christian?"

"You look lovely." He then stepped forward and gave her a quick kiss. "I think you should borrow more of Cherie's dresses."

"Wee, I agree," answered the dancer from behind. Cherie than grabbed Abigail's hand and tugged her along. "Now, my petite, we must go to the theatre. We cannot be late. Adieu, Monsieur Christain. I hope you will come to the play?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

Abigail giggled and gave him one last kiss good-bye and took off with her friend down the stairs. "I'll see you later, Christian."

It didn't take long before the young-writer found that he was by himself. He felt uneasy about what Toulouse had said. He didn't want to lose another love to the Duke and especially someone like Abigail. He knew that she was no match for the Duke. His information just had to be wrong.

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**Location: The Silver Stage, evening**

Later that night, Christian made good his word and arrived at the Silver Stage. He came partly because it was his job to report on the show and another because he wanted to see Abigail again. He also wanted to ask her if she knew the Duke to put his mind at ease. However, to his surprise at the beginning of the play it was announced at that fabled wealthy American patron, Mr. Jenkins had arrived and was in the audience.

In roundhouse applause, he saw an elderly gentleman dressed in a tux and holding a cane rise up and took a bow. Christian had never seen Mr. Jenkins before. He looked like a stern man and sort of reminded him of his father, the one who thought his possession with love was ridiculous and absurd. In high sight, he might have agreed, but in the end nothing was finer than love. And admittingly he knew he was in love again with Abby.

Yet, to his astonishment he saw that the Duke was also present. He was seated next to Mr. Jenkins in the box seat by the stage. Christian ducked his head and hoped that he hadn't been seen. It was a full house and it was unlikely that he'd been notice, but he didn't want to take any chances.

However, graciously the lights dimmed and out walked Ms. Nightingale. The spotlight shone on her like a beacon and the sparkle of her dress was divine and in a beautiful clear voice she sang the opening song.

Can anybody find me somebody to love?  
Each morning I get up I die a little  
Can barely stand on my feet  
Take a look in the mirror and cry  
Lord what you're doing to me  
I have spent all my years in believing you  
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!  
Somebody, somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard every day of my life  
I work till I ache my bones  
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -  
I get down on my knees  
And I start to pray  
Till the tears run down from my eyes  
Lord - somebody - somebody  
Can anybody find me - somebody to love?

(She works hard)

Everyday - I try and I try and I try -  
But everybody wants to put me down  
They say I'm goin' crazy  
They say I got a lot of water in my brain  
Got no common sense  
I got nobody left to believe  
Yeah - yeah yeah yeah

Oh Lord  
Somebody - somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Got no feel, I got no rhythm  
I just keep losing my beat  
I'm ok, I'm alright  
Ain't gonna face no defeat  
I just gotta get out of this prison cell  
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

The audience then erupted into a roar of applause. Abigail was a hit and Mr. Jenkins seemed very please. Though, deep down Christian knew that Abby didn't need somebody to love. She had somebody and that somebody was him. He felt her searching the crowd with her eyes behind her crescent moon mask. She sought him out and when they found him he saw the light sparkled in her dark hazel depths. She unexpectedly placed her gloved hand over her mouth and tenderly blew him a kiss.

Christian blushed at her display and gestured with his hand that he caught it and placed it over his heart. Brightly the diva smiled and bowed graciously to the crowd one last time before the entrance of the actors for the play.

However, unknown to them the Duke saw the exchange. His possessive streak coursed like a powerful venom in his veins. He saw what the diva had done. He saw her blow her kiss and who had received her favor. Seething, he watched as that damn _same_ penniless-writer steal his property from right under his nose. Agitated, he swatted his manservant on the arm and whispered his dark plan into his ear.

"It's that blasted writer again! I want you to take care of him, permanently!"

The large man nodded his head in understanding and rose to exit the booth. They didn't notice that Mr. Jenkins watched the whole scene between the diva and Christian and also overheard the Duke. Concerned, he narrowed his brow and wondered what was happening.

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TBC

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Thanks for the positive feed back. Reviews help fuel my muse.

Please review. Thank you.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I don't own** "****I Can't Help Falling in Love with You" byElvis Presley.**

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The Silver Stage

Chapter 10

When the current fell on the stage and the diva took her final bow to start the play, Christian moved to meet her backstage. He wanted to wish her luck and put his mind at ease. He was still disturbed by the thought that she might be cheating him, but now after seeing her and receiving her recognition it all seemed ridiculous. His little nymph would never betray him. He had faith in her. He believed in their love. Yes, Abigail had restored his conviction. Yes, love was once again a many splendid thing!

Though, oddly as he opened her dressing room he noticed that it wasn't the same space he had conducted their interview. Instead, he found himself in some weird looking gypsy den. There were beads everywhere and burning herbs in a caldron. There were pictures of tarot cards and bits of dead animals all over the place. It was creepy.

"Oh! What are you doing here?" questioned a woman in costume at the vanity.

She was dressed in a period gown and had on her had a lovely blond wig. Embarrassed and shocked, Christian said, "Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss but I'm looking for Ms. Nightingale. Have you seen her?"

The woman stood up and shouted, "I'm Ms. Nightingale! Now, get out of my dressing room!"

"What? But that's can't be. You're not Ab—"

"OUT!" shrieked the woman. She shoved him out and slammed the door.

Meanwhile, in the hall the Duke's servant man saw the whole thing from a distance. He narrowed his brow and assumed that the writer was up to no good again. He assumed he was also courting Ms. Nightingale. He decided to find him and teach him a lesson.

Though, just behind the stage Abigail was leaving to change. She couldn't let Mr. Jenkins see her this way. She had to meet him at the box. However, as she was walking she bumped into the Duke. Startled, she exclaimed, "Oh! Good heavens, please excuse me, sir."

The Duke glared at her and grabbed her wrist in a vice grip and seethed, "No! You are _mine_! I won't have you having a fling with that writer."

Abby tried to break free, but his grip was too strong. "What are you talking about? Let me go!"

Viciously, the Duke grabbed her other wrist and trapped her in his embrace. He looked at her intensely and peered into her eyes behind her crescent moon mask. Darkly, he said, "Oh, don't play stupid with me, _darling_. I know you and that writer have a thing. I know you have been two-timing me, you whore!"

"What! I don't know what you're saying!"

Abby tried again to pull away from the crazy Duke, but he wouldn't budge. He instead started to drag her away. Fearful, Abigail began to struggle and cried out for help.

"No! Let go of me! Help! Help! Somebody help!"

Concerned, Cherie bolted across the stage in her costume and said, "Hey! Monsieur, what are you doing to the diva?"

"It's none of you're business!" shouted the Duke. "It's a matter between me and the lady. Now, go and do you're silly play."

Irked, Cherie halted him by grabbing onto his arm and said, "No, you must let her go. She must change her costume."

"Back off!"

The Duke knocked Cherie away and she landed on her back. She hit the back of her head onto one of the support beams and was let dizzy. Frightened for her friend, Abby redoubled her efforts to break free. She managed to twist out from his grip and rushed to check on Cherie.

"No, Cherie!"

Abigail checked her head and eased her onto the ground. The sound of the commotion got the attention of the other members of the stage and they all paused to help too. Christian followed the crowd and noticed that the diva was in the middle of it. He called out her name, "Nightingale!" and dashed to see what was wrong.

The Duke saw the diva immediately react to the sight of him. She raced to Christian arms and hugged. The writer hushed her and rubbed her back. He saw that she was all right and he was greatly relieved. He was afraid that something might have happened to her.

"Oh, Abby. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It's Cherie. That madman came out of nowhere and started harassing me."

"Man? What man?"

"That man!"

Abigail pointed to where the Duke had been, but saw that in the mist of the confusion he had disappeared. Everyone seemed baffled about what to do. It wasn't until Mr. Fits, the stage manager started clapping his hands that got everyone's attention.

Annoyed, he said, "Great Shakespeare! We've got a play to perform! The show must go on!"

In a matter of minutes, the stagehands and actors began to reorganize. They started working again and set up the opening act. Though, nobody seemed to notice that the Duke was still close by. He was furious to know that Christian was once again stealing yet again what was rightfully his. Enraged, he pulled out his gun from his coat and decided to settle this matter once and for all.

Unexpectedly, he fired a shot into the air. The actors and workers screamed and ducked for over at the sound. All eyes turned towards the Duke. He pointed the gun at Christian and began to shake with pent up rage and fear.

"You! It's was always you! You're always trying to steal my property!"

Dumbfounded, the writer stared at the gun and then the Duke. It was clear that the man was on edge. He slowly raised his hands and said, "Don't. Don't do this. Don't shoot."

The Duke roared, "Don't tell me what to do! Wasn't it bad enough that you took the first one away from me! Why do you have to steal my turtledove too! Why can't you leave us alone! Why can't you let her love me!"

Confused, Abby said, "Love? Christian what is he talking about?"

The Duke smirked, "Oh, so he hasn't told you. He hasn't told you about the first one—he hasn't told you about Satine. You are not the first. You're just his next harlot."

Abigail turned to face beloved and said, "Christian? Is this true? You two have fought over a woman before?"

Christian lowered his glaze and then replied, "Yes…"

"But, you said you used to work for this man. You said you quit. You said it was some sort of disagreement."

"Yes, the disagreement was over a woman named Satine. She was his courtesan and I was the man she loved."

Devastated, brown-eyed beauty wasn't sure what she should be feeling. Christian was in love with a courtesan? She just couldn't seem to wrap her head around that fact. She couldn't image him in love with anybody else. She just couldn't image him involved with people that like.

Shaking her head, she stepped back from him and said, "No, no you—you never said. You lied to me. Why?"

Christian tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away. "No! I get it. You—you loved this woman. You loved somebody else, I understand. I get that, but why didn't you tell me? Is it because I remind you of her? Is that it? I remind you of Satine, the Sparkling Diamond?"

Shocked, Christian asked, "Diamond? But, how do you know that?"

Abigail laughed and pressed her hand over her mouth and said, "Because I read your story!"

"What?"

The diva replied, "I read your story Christian…I read your book."

In response, Christian was enthralled. He knew that Abby loved to read, but he never thought she'd actually read his book. It never accorded to him that anyone would. It was just something he promised Satine. Overwhelmed, he rushed to her side and held her hands in his.

"You read it? You read my story? Why? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I wasn't sure if it was really you who wrote it or if it was just some fiction. I didn't think it mattered. Does it?"

Christian shook his head and grinned. "No, no it doesn't, not anymore. All that matters is that I love you."

Abigail beamed. She couldn't even begin to express how wonderful he made her feel. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his next and the two hugged. However, the Duke would have none of it. He cocked his gun and pointed it at the pair.

"No, not again! I won't let you take away what's mine!" He then extended his left hand and towards Abby and said, "Maggie, get over here now."

Confused, the couple shared a look. The brown-eyed beauty shook her head and said, "I'm not Maggie. I'm Abigail."

"What?"

She then removed her crescent moon mask and revealed her face. And like a deflated balloon, the Duke lowered his gun and was stumped speechless. He was completely taken back and in distress ran his hand over the side of his sweaty face. Stuttering, he said, "Wh—what's going on? How? You're—you're not my Maggie?"

"No, I was only pretending to be Maggie or Ms. Nightingale. I was just covering for her because she was spending so much time out on the town the Duke. The stage-manager got desperate. I stepped in. I don't even like singing. I wanted to write. I wanted to be a playwright. I didn't intend to lie. I was only trying to protect the theatre."

"Then, Maggie?" questioned the Duke.

"She's in her dressing room. She made me do the opening song because it's the last performance."

"Abigail!" shouted Mr. Jenkins.

The theatre-owner marched through the currents and stood between the Duke and the diva. Flustered, the elder man yanked off his hat and shouted, "Confounded young lady! What on earth have you been doing while I've been away?"

The brown-eyed beauty nervously twisted her fingers and inched up to him and said, "Oh, hello Uncle Walter."

"Uncle Walter!" cried Christian. "You never said you where related to Mr. Jenkins."

Abby shrugged and said, "Well…I guess that makes us even. You're really an aid writer for a newspaper and the former lover of a dead courtesan and I'm actually not a diva, but an heiress on holiday from overseas."

Christian narrowed his brow. "Aid writer? How do you know that?"

She explained, "You're place is full of products, drafts and clippings. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you write aids and not articles."

The young writer beamed. "And you still didn't care? You still wanted to spend time with me even though I haven't got much to my name."

Abby smiled and said, "I wasn't always rich, Christian. Those things don't matter to me."

Mr. Jenkins frowned at the two's lovely-dovey state coughed. He pointed to Mr. Fits and began parking out commands. He wasn't a successful department store giant for nothing. "You, what the heck do I pay you for? Go put on that play." He then turned to the Duke and roared, "And you! What the hell do you think this is? Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show? Put that thing away before you hurt yourself." Then, turned on Abby and yanked on her arm. "And you, young lady. I've got words with you little Missy."

Christian scrabbled to keep up with Mr. Jenkins and his fast pace as he pulled Abby down the hall and into an empty dressing room.

"Mr. Jenkins, sir. Please, let me explain. I—"

The elder man shoved Christian out and barked, "Beat it, paperboy! This conversation is private."

"But sir—"

The door slammed in Christian's face. He wasn't sure what had happened. Abby's uncle was certainly a pushy man. However, he wasn't about to let things just drop.

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Meanwhile, in the dressing room Mr. Jenkins began to pace. He never in his life imaged that Abby would go off and make a fool of herself. She was such a sweet child. He was sure she'd grow up to be a nice young lady. He never thought she'd fall in with gunslingers or other people's dirty laundry. Yet, here she was dressed up and painted like a vaudeville China doll. Gone was the wallflower and here stood the rose in bloom. He hardly recognized her. She looked so grown up and different. He was used her being straight laced and with her nose stuck in a book, but now there was a boy. Things were bound to get complicated.

"Abigail, what is this all about now? Why on earth are you gussied up like that?"

Though, before she could answer the door was kicked opened and in entered Christian. He would not wait. He would not lose a moment to be with the woman he loved ever again. If there was one thing he learned in life was that he had to take chances and follow your dreams. Be damned the consequences.

Abruptly, he crossed the room to his distressed nymph and held her in his arms and turned to address Mr. Jenkins while he held her hand.

"Mr. Jenkins, sir. I want you to know that I love your niece. She the most wonderful young woman I ever met. She's smart, funny and kind and above all else she cares about me too. I know it. So, please don't punish her. Abby's actions are not to blame, but if possible I'd like to ask if I can have her hand in marriage."

Abigail gasped and physically turned him around and shouted, "Are you serious! We don't—you don't even know me."

Christian beamed and said, "It doesn't matter. I love you. I didn't even know if I would ever find love like this again. You've transformed me, Abigail. You've made me believe again."

"Oh, Christian. I love you too."

The two then hugged, but quickly broke apart when the writer realized they weren't exactly alone. He disentangled himself and reached down to take her hand. And with a heavy sigh waited for Mr. Jenkins' verdict.

The elder gentleman groaned and shook his head. He quietly sat down on a chair and gaze at his niece and said, "Look Abigail. I promised your folks I'd look after you after they passed away. And though I'm glad you've got yourself a nice young man I still don't know if you're ready to be off on your own."

The brown-eyed beauty stepped towards her uncle and bent down to take his hand and said, "Uncle Walter, I know you worry about me, but I won't be alone. I've got Christian and he loves me. Gosh, he didn't know about the department store or who I was. He liked me."

Mr. Jenkins patted her head and relented. "Well, if he makes you happy, but he isn't going to be a lump. I need to know he'll be a hard working young man."

Christian nodded his head. "Yes, if that's what it takes to be with Abigail, but I'm no business man, Mr. Jenkins. I'm a writer."

"Are you any good?"

Bashfully, Christian replied, "Well, I make a moderate living."

"Well, at least you do something. I'd hate for Abigail to have fallen for some tumbleweed. Tell you what though you know anything about theatre?"

Startled, Christian was taken back. "Uh, oh yes. I'm familiar with the stage. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was thinking you can help prove your salt by running this theatre for me. If you can manage that for a year than I'll consider you my new nephew."

Christian was ecstatic. He never think in a million years he'd be offered an opportunity like that. It was like a dream come dream. Enthralled, he rushed up to the man and shook his hand firmly and exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Jenkins. This is unbelievable. I don't know how to thank you!"

The elder man patted him on the back and said, "Just don't disappoint, son."

"Oh, I promise, sir. You have my word."

"Good, then by Shakespeare let's go see that play." He then turned to his niece and said, "Abigail, you go change and meet me at the box."

"Yes, uncle."

The elder man left the dressing room, but Christian linger behind and just couldn't get over the fact that he was going to be the new owner of the Silver Stage. It was a writer's dream. He never thought Mr. Jenkins would be so generous. Meanwhile, Abby dropped herself in his lap after he sat down and circled her arms around his neck.

"Well, it looks like Uncle Walter has put you to work."

Christian smiled and pressed her close to his chest and said, "Yes…your uncle is a very kind man."

Abby scuffed and said, "Oh no, he's a workaholic. You don't own big department stores by being lazy."

"Yes, but—to let me run the theatre…it's hard to believe."

"Well, I know you can do it."

He turned to grin at her and asked, "And how do you know, Ms. Jenkins?"

Smiling, she answered, "Because you love me."

He framed her face between his hands and lovingly caressed her cheek. Christian beamed at her answer. He couldn't have asked for a more prefect happy ending even in his wildest dreams. It wasn't everyday you'd find somebody to love and who happened to love you in return. It was a miracle he thought he'd never experience again. And Abigail had more than just his heart, she his soul because she dreamed the same dreams as him. With her, he came to love again the things that had brought him to Paris in the first place—she brought back to him his own dreams.

Wise men said, "Only fools rush in"  
But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?  
Would it be a sin  
If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be

Take my hand  
Take my whole life, too  
For I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be

Take my hand  
Take my whole life, too  
For I can't help falling in love with you

For I can't help falling in love with you

Christian then closed the distance between them and kissed Abigail on the lips.

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The End.

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I've re-written the last chapter because I felt like it needed to end with a song. Again, thanks for reading and reviewing.


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